


Things Seeming Impossible

by InstantMix5



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Bloodplay, Bondage, Dominance, F/M, Face-Fucking, Feels beware, Fluff, Kissing, Major Character Injury, Oral Sex, Prepare to Crylo Ren, SO SORRY, Sex, This is going to be sad, Violence, no really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7607752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InstantMix5/pseuds/InstantMix5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn Stara was just a simple Engineer on the Finalizer. What happens when the Commander takes a special interest in her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I already have a plan for the sequel, and it's probably planned out better than the first book. But I will make it as amazing as possible, with flourishes of glitter everywhere.

She strides down the long hallway, boots clicking on the metal floors of the large ship. The woman moves from the hall and into the ship's hangar. Inside waits fourteen ships, desperate for her skilled attention. Quinn takes inventory of each TIE fighter and what it needs to return to the next mission. With a mental list of parts needed for the ships, she saunters to her diagnostics terminal and enters the work orders and parts request. Task complete, she turns to a TIE fighter, slipping under the ship on her back and begins tinkering with fuses inside a loose control panel. She notices a missing converter and furrows her thin eyebrows high on her smooth forehead.

"That's odd," she mutters, hands digging into the mess of wires and searches the compartment. Finding nothing, she pulls herself free from the confined space and opens the twin compartment. Inside, hooked up to the incorrect cable is the missing power converter. She digs into the compartment and frees the piece. She inspects it, bright blue eyes scanning it in confusion. "How did you get in there...?" She wonders aloud, soft voice audible only to her ears.

"Quinn!" A voice shouts to her, pulling her from her trance of confusion. She jerks into a sitting position, bumping her head on the suspended fighter. 

"Ow! What?" She demands, dragging her body from under the ship to look at her intruder. Towering above her sitting figure is a fellow mechanical engineer. She blinks at him, stunned by his presence.

"Sorry, I just wanted to know if you've checked any converters yet?" Quinn scanned the uniform of her colleague, the black jump suit unzipped to the waist, hanging down over the tool belt around his waist to reveal a stained white tank shirt. Her eyes skirt over the prominent muscles of his chest and arms and instead meet his green eyes.

"Ah, yeah, I was just doing that. There was two converters on the right engine, and none on the left..." She blinks up at Porter, quizzical of his question.

"Me too! What ship number?" He asks, scanning the outside of the ship.

"This is TIE-1729. One of the newer shipments. This was their first run. I wonder if the maker screwed up?" Quinn offered the tanned young man, standing from her work and swiping her hands over her uniform. 

"Forget that! What hot shot missed that on pre flight inspections!" He chuckles, looking down at the small girl. Quinn is a mere five foot, being from Silon. Silon is a small planet just inside the Outer Rim. The people there are human, for the most part, but smaller than most. Quinn is tall for their people. She looks up at the man and offers a smile. 

"Well, I guess I can have a word with the chief, wow it's hot in here this morning!" Quinn fans herself for a moment before unzipping her uniform and shedding the sleeves to match Porter. 

"Hot because you're here," He jokes, nudging her. She rolls her eyes and slips her tongue between her lips. Her tongue is one of the identifying factors that she is from Silon. The purple tinted muscle is forked, characterizing her as Silonian. This right of passage isn't genetic, but at the age of thirteen, the Silonian people complete their schooling. The tongue is split as a parallel to a diploma, allowing the graduates to speak the complex language they spent ten years learning. From there, they were free to complete any other schooling. 

Quinn, on the other hand, took a year off from school to help her father with his business. That year soon stretched into five. Together they worked on the small planet as a ship repair service, and spent a good amount of time on trips to Kashyyyk buying parts off sketchy dealers. But they did what they had to in order survive. After a year off, Quinn found work with the First Order after completing an emergency fix for a good price. She left her father on the request that all of her money was sent to her old man. Whether her demand was followed, she didn't know. At eighteen, Quinn was working on a strange ship, for strange people that didn't speak her native language. Two years into the job, and she spoke Basic for the most part. Even still, she often struggled to process even simple sentences when stressed. 

"Okay, let me get back to work," The small framed girl slipped back under the ship, picking up the converter and setting to putting it in on the correct side. She repeated the process for five other ships, sweat trickling from her brow by the end. She wiped more grease onto her already stained gray tee and stumbled out from under the ship. "Nire hitza," she complained, mopping at the sweat on her face with a greasy rag. The black gunk smeared across her tan skin, freckles covered by the latest smearing. She wandered to the station her chief hung around, working on his own ship most of the day. As expected, that is where she found him, tinkering with a fuse that he can't quite seem to solder the right way. "Try from the left," She offers, scaring him. He jumps, hitting his head on the panel.

"Quinn! How many times do I have to tell you not to scare me like that!" He shouts, rubbing the top of his head.

"Sorry, Chief. Porter brought it to my attention that a large sum of recent TIE fighters have an odd... eh, problem with the converters. There have been two on the right engine, and none on the left. I'm sure that made them unstable in flight, raw power on the left." Quinn struggles through the sentences, searching for words she knows in Basic.

"Are you still having trouble with Basic?" The chief asks, tilting his head at her. She nods, sheepish to admit the barrier still exists. "It's alright, it takes time. Can you take this to the bridge? The General might want to know about faulty equipment being shipped to us." Quinn bobs her head, waving a short goodbye to the older man and turns on her heel.

Quinn darts along the hallway, swiping the rag over her face in attempt to collect some of the dirt from her skin. Resigning to the fact that she would be dirty, she tucks the cloth into her front pocket and steps up to the guards in front of the bridge entrance. "I need to deliver a message to the General from hangar one," She asks, timid before them. They nod and step to the side. She approaches the brooding ginger man, standing tall above her. 

"Excuse me, sir?" She asks, feeling like a little kid under his harsh stare. 

"Yes?" He replies, uninterested by their conversation.

"Ah, I have a message from hangar one. There is a problem with new ships?" She stumbles over words, panicked by the informality of her sentence.

"Engineer, correct?" Quinn nods, confirming her title. "Continue." He crosses his arms and looks past her. Quinn resists the urge to look, and instead continues to explain the problem. 

"There were two energy converters on one engine, while the other engine lacks a converter. I'm not happy one of our engineers missed this on pre flight checks, but I don't think anyone messed this up on purpose, maybe just forgot to check, thinking nothing would be wrong." A voice interrupts her speech, cold and metallic.

"What planet?" Quinn freezes, easing around to look up at the tall figure behind her. He is cloaked in all black, and topped with a cowl-covered mask. The mask in unnerving to the small young woman, prickling her nerves as she stares up at it.

"Silon," She states, still unsure of why the Commander is speaking to her.

"I figured as much. Your accent is unmistakable." He stares a moment longer before stomping back onto the bridge. Quinn returns her eyes to the General, who holds an amused smirk on his lips.

"Commander Ren has a little known interest in languages. I believe he speaks your native language, or he will soon." Quinn nods, unsure of what to say. "I'll handle the TIE fighter situation, have your chief send a file with all of the fighters' serial numbers with a problem to them." Quinn nods and slinks off the bridge. 

"//What a day.\\\" She whispers in Silonian, returning to the hangar to prepare a file with the information the General requested.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next part. There is going to be a Quinn/Kylo happening. Setting up for future stuff.

Quinn stumbled through her morning routine, still tired. She stayed late working on the report for General Hux. She managed to get a list of all TIE fighters with doubled converters, and put it in a document with a near essay length explanation of the problem. The small girl rubbed her eyes, smearing yesterday's makeup across her face. With a groan, she trips into the refresher, setting to washing her body. Her hands run soap through the long strands of chestnut hair, washing them of sleep. She cleans her body, and steps out, feeling more awake.

A loud ring interrupts her mid dressing. She falls out of the bathroom, pulling a clean gray tee shirt on over her damp body. Quinn spots the data pad on her night stand and opens the message. It reads out loud to her, the female voice precise and void of emotion. "Please report to Command Center at: 07:10. Have a nice day." Quinn's frantic eyes scan the clock, reading the time. 07:03. Screaming on the inside, she yanks on a clean ash gray jump suit, fastening the tool belt around her thin waist. She leaves the sleeves hanging off around her waist, yanking boots on her feet on the way out the door. Quinn runs down the halls, navigating the halls with a whirring head. She slams on the breaks, skidding to a halt in front of the confused guards. She pants, hands on her knees and she pants from the exertion.

"//Hold on\\\," She sighs in Silonian, holding a finger up to them in a one. She gains her composure and straightens, dusting her shoulder with short, flipping movements. "I was requested, and found out seven minutes before the time I was requested," She explains, and the troopers nod, ushering her through the doors as soon as they opened enough for her to pass through.

"Engineer!" Quinn moves toward the seething General, fear sending her to jitters.

"Yes, General?" She shakes with fear, stepping up to him. Craning her head, she looks him in the eyes, her bright blue eyes meeting his pale ones.

"I have a request-"

"Oh, right General! //Sorry!\\\ I have the file right here," From a pocket in her jumpsuit she produces a portable file clip holding her report. She holds out the small piece, dropping it into an outstretched hand. Armitage's bony fingers clasp around the plastic shape, holding it for a moment before pocketing it into his own uniform. 

"Yes, thank you. Engineer," He snaps her attention back to her. Tiredness is making her mind wander. "Are you feeling well? You look ill," He questions, head tilting as he scans Quinn. She straightens up and smiles at the General.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just had a late night trying to get the report together." She smiles again, ensuring the ginger's confidence in her well being. 

"I appreciate your dedication to the First Order," Quinn's eyes flash, widening by a millimeter at the large words. She takes note of them to find their definition later. Her tiny head bobs, acknowledging the apparent compliment, hoping this was an acceptable response.

"Thank you, juana." She replies, earning a raised eyebrow.

"Juana?" He attempts to pronounce the word, but instead stumbles over the j. In her language, the j is either pronounced as a y or an h. In this particular word, it sounds similar to yeahnah.

"Sorry, it means sir in Silonian. It's just natural for me to call someone sir in my language. Respect of elder males is very... it's expected on Silon." Quinn tries to smile, flashing her white teeth. The grin falters in her nerves, thick lips returning to press in a line once again.

"It's quite alright. I will keep that in mind when speaking with you or your people. Dismissed," Quinn is waved off the bridge, much to her relief. She shuttles herself from the tense atmosphere. As she strides, she does a once over in the clean floor of the ship. Her knee high engineer boots are black, with a few smudges and burns on the rubber. The smokey gray one piece is tucked into the tall boots. They tap on the metal, but not loud. Just a mere patter under her small weight. The jumpsuit is loose around her body, designed for filled out men. When she was first put on the ship, she had to modify uniforms to not hang off of her. The First Order began to special order uniforms for her measurements about a year ago. Quinn caught a glimpse of her face in the floor, and she studies the image ingrained into her mind. Quinn's skin has always been flawless, tan from Silon's hot sun. Her chestnut hair hung in damp curls over her gray shirt, making wet spots on the light material. She sighs, making a quick stop in the refresher. There, she stares at her face in the mirror.

Her freckled cheeks are sunken over high cheek bones, the tan of her skin looking unusually pale, even in the florescent lights above. Her stomach churns, uneasy. General Hux was right. She did not look like she felt well. The damp curls frame her tired face, highlighting the paleness. Dark circles lined her searching blue eyes as they scan the rest of her body. Quinn never deemed herself heavy by any means, but curvy was a word she often used to describe herself. She still has incredible stamina, but a little more flesh than the stormtrooper standard build. Quinn pulls her hair back, knotting it and leaves the restroom. 

She walks the long corridor to the hangar, hands wringing, eyes focused on their movements. As she wanders the hall, she passes an attached hall. As she crosses it, she is side plowed by a hurling force. She stumbles under the transferred momentum, catching her off balanced and tumbling to the floor. She lands on her butt with a quiet thump, stunned by the change of altitude. Her dazed eyes travel to the cloaked figure, scanning the area for what he ran into. Standing over her is no other than the ship's Commander, Kylo Ren. 

With a start, Quinn rushes to her feet, panicked for what to say. "Juana, I'm so very sorry. I wasn't paying- aware. I should have been aware of my- things around me. Juana, please, forgive me," Quinn begs, eyes pleading with the tall figure. The mask strains to look upon her, unsuccessful. Instead, the commander falls to a crouch before her. He sits on his heels, looking up at her. The mask tilts to the side, and she imagines his eyes narrowing as he examines her. She swallows, glancing down before deciding to stare ahead to avoid appearing to be looking down upon the reckless, irrational leader. 

"//How are you so small\\\?" The commander asks in her native tongue. Even through the mask, the accent is near impeccable. Quinn almost questions if he is from her planet, but two things tip her off that this wasn't the case. First, was the lack of distinct split tongue accent, and the other is his extreme height. His muscular build towers over a foot above her when he is standing. Even crouching, he is eye level with her breasts. He doesn't let this effect their conversation, tilting his head to remind her of his question.

"//Sir? I do not understand your inquisition\\\?" Quinn replies, finding her formality much easier to transfer in her first language.

"//How are you so small\\\?" He repeats, tone void of emotion. Quinn blinks, nostrils flaring in mild frustration. 

"//I am not small for my planet. Yours, yes, but mine, I am average. A tall average\\\\." Quinn explains, eyes set as firm as her jaw. The commander jerks his head to the left, startling her. She opens her mouth to apologize for anything said wrong, but before she could utter a word, Ren stands from his crouch, dodging her and continuing on his previous course. She doesn't dare turn to watch his figure retreat. Quinn remains frozen, only dashing to the hangar when an angry screech echoes down the hall. He's destroying something again. Quinn can almost feel the General's anger at the Commander's childish tantrums.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue yet. Just read!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I write this I am glancing at my front door every five words because I ordered pizza and I cannot be more excited than I am now. Pizza AND cheese fries. What a beautiful day!

Quinn slips into the mess hall, tired from a long day's work. She hasn't eaten much in the past twenty-four hours and she deems now is a good of time as any. Sauntering through the line, void of concentration, she selects a meal that appears appetizing and takes a seat at an empty table. The young woman sighs, fork plucking through the small dinner. As she stares lost into the tray, her back prickles, the overwhelming sense of being watched erupting in her spine. Torso tense, she lifts her head, eyes drifting around the room. Spotting nothing out of order, her eyes return to the plate, shoveling a few bites into her small mouth. 

A tray drops onto the table beside her, startling her from the trance. Quinn looks up, eyes landing on a tall blonde woman, appearing small in her face. Her body, however, is covered in chrome stormtrooper armor. The recognizable helmet of Captain Phasma is placed on the table next to her tray. The Captain slips into the seat, and Quinn tucks her head down. 

"Er, Captain," She nods, teeth chattering with anxiety. The beautiful woman turns, regarding her with a tight smile.

"Quinn, I presume?" Quinn nods again, making a mental note of how similar her voice is to the one that barks orders from under the helmet. "I was given special orders from General Hux to keep an eye on you for the next few days. He said you looked ill this morning and he wants to make sure you are getting more sleep at night." She explains, digging her fork into the food on her plate and stuffing it into her mouth. 

"Oh," Is all Quinn utters, a blush touching her cheeks as she focuses back on her own meal.

"So I'm your babysitter. I'm guessing you're about to get some sort of promotion if he is taking special time to make sure you are healthy. But you didn't hear it from me!" Quinn looks up in time to see the woman wink at her. Eyes wide, Quinn fumbles for words.

"I- no. I doubt that, Captain. There's no-"

"Easy, it's just a possibility. Hux is... different." A fondness crosses her face, a small smile lifting the tight edges of her lips. Her eyes become lost for a moment --a moment only Quinn sees. They eat in silence, finishing their meals and tossing them away. Captain Phasma accompanies Quinn on her walk to her unit, ensuring that she goes in. Phasma nods, offering a warm smile. The petite girl returns it as best she can, allowing the door to shut in front of her. Quinn sighs, lids heavy from sleep deprivation. She launches herself from the doorway and into the squeaking metal cot. She glides through the air in a dive and settles herself on the mess of sheets. Within minutes, she is fast asleep in the silence of her unit.

 

Quinn stirs, eyes opening in the dark room. She becomes aware of her position, having not moved from her belly flop only hours before. As her mind begins to focus, she remembers what woke her. The prickling feeling returned, nerves snapping like old violin strings. Her eyes open further, allowing as much light as the night setting lights will give her. She lays still for a moment longer, deciding to roll over and look. Quinn's large blue eyes travel the dim lit room, scanning for anything out of place. Nothing, she realizes, and shudders back into her covers. Lids slipping shut, she falls back into a dreamless slumber. 

A few hours later, Quinn wakes to the familiar ring of her datapad, informing her it is time to get started with her day. She falls from the warm covers, stretching. With a tap of the screen, the alarm shuts off. Quinn stands in silence, body just beginning to respond to her requests. She feels better, well rested and even hungry. With a smile, she dresses for another day as an engineer. With a clean jumpsuit, washed and tied hair, she works to apply a bit of makeup, feeling an abnormal desire to look nice. 

The eyeliner brush paints across her lid, highlighting the large blue eyes set behind high cheekbones. The tan has faded over the past years, freckles disappearing with the color. With a well created wing on each blue eye, Quinn graces her long lashes with a few swipes of mascara and smiles. She deems the look acceptable and steps out of her unit. Waiting for her is Captain Phasma, helmet tucked against the hip of her silver armor. Phasma smiles, a wide display that sets crinkles by her eyes. The smile is infectious, and Quinn soon returns it with the same energy.

"You look much better this morning, Quinn. Did you sleep well?" Phasma turns, walking down the hall at a comfortable pace. Quinn starts after her, falling into step with the long legged woman.

"Yeah, a lot better. I haven't had much time to sleep the past few days trying to cover for all the work that needs to be done." She explains, dragging her lip between her teeth. 

"It's been hectic, I'm sorry. It must leave your department scrambling for repairs. I know my troopers have been struggling. Commander Ren isn't well known for planning out attacks, so we often lose a lot of troopers during raids. Trying to train and replace the lost soldiers- there isn't much time for training current soldiers past the beginning levels, which keeps getting them killed." That captain shakes her head, sadness blatant in her expression. 

"I'm sorry. The mechanical engineering department is- it doesn't have many workers. Most days we are each working on up to fifteen ships. It's a lot of work, but I enjoy it. That might just be me." Quinn laughs a little, eyes traveling to her boots.

"Breakfast?" Phasma nods to the mess hall, and Quinn joins her for food. "What is it that you do? I know you're a mechanical engineer, but what does that mean exactly?" 

"Uh, well when TIE fighters come back from battle, we check for any damages, and make a list of parts needed in order to get them back on the battle field. We also inspect the new TIE fighters that come in." Quinn grimaces, eyes narrowing at the reminder of incompetence in her division.

"I heard there was a problem reported with a new shipment..." Phasma trails, eyes curious. Quinn looks up at the Captain and offers a fake smile.

"It should have been found during shipment checks. I'm sure it was someone just not knowing to look. That is something I look for in every access port. I'm always willing to catch someone else in a mistake," Quinn jokes, and the pair laugh together. 

"I hope this isn't an offensive question, but your accent is different, almost like you struggle with some of the sounds in words." Quinn shakes her head, a smile playing on her lips.

"It's okay, I don't mind. I'm from Silon, so my Basic isn't as great as yours. The bigger words that are usually used by a lesser staff toward someone above them- I don't know them yet. I've only been speaking basic for two years. As for the words being said wrong, my planet has an odd education system. We spent ten years learning Silonian, it's a difficult language. When we complete the schooling, rather than a certificate, they cut our tongues in half. It's a proud moment for parents, I suppose." Following this statement, Quinn's tongue protrudes from her lips, the two sides of her tongue spreading to show it off. Phasma's mouth falls agape, examining her tongue.

"That's actually really interesting. Should I use smaller words for you?" Phasma asks, pulling her attention from her tongue and to her eyes. Quinn shrugs, pulling her tongue back into her mouth.

"You don't have to. I pretty much can figure out the meaning of the word by voice tone. Which is why I am glad Commander Ren speaks Silonian. If he didn't, I would be lost in the large words. That mask provides no emotions!" The blonde laughs, tossing her head back in the wholehearted giggle.

"It is a curious object. The Commander has his own quirks. But I had no clue he could speak multiple languages." The Captain glances away, scanning those surrounding her before looking back at Quinn. "You can call me Emily. I think we could be friends." Quinn's eyes widen at the suggestion, but she accepts it with a wide smile.

"I would like that." She replied, and they continued their meal with trivial discussion.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see Ren a bit more.

"Quinn!" The tap of boots startles the woman from her trance like state as she works. Quinn turns toward the voice, eyes landing on her Chief. She smiles, giving him a short wave as he waddles over to her. "Quinn, I have some important news." With a jerk, Quinn stands in front of her chief, sensing the importance in his tone.

"Juana?" Worry seeps into her voice. 

"I've been transferred to Starkiller Base, they need an engineer with my skill level working on some weapon, or something." Quinn's heart stops, stomach shooting into her throat. 

"Chief, I- that's... That's great!" She manages to squeak out. The thought of losing her chief is a shock, he was so kind and compassionate when she was learning Basic. "But, sir, why tell me?"

"That's the catch. General Hux asked me to send you to the command center. Quinn, I think he's going to give you my old position!" Her heart stopped again, her face paling.

"Oh, my. This, really? Oh, wow," She breathes.

"Quinn, you have to hurry. He wants you right away!"

"Yes, juana!" With that, she runs.


End file.
